


Blind To All Of The Signs

by MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance



Series: Requests [3]
Category: Frank Iero and the Patience, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Frank Iero, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Good Old Fashioned Fucking, Hotel Sex, Kinky, Light Dom/sub, Name-Calling, One Shot, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Slight Voyeurism, Smut, Swearing, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:12:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance/pseuds/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance
Summary: You've been lucky enough to land a spot opening for Frank Iero and The Patience.That means you get to watch him perform on stage every night.Until he calls you on it... then that bubbling sexual tension seems less like a joke and more like something you should have mentioned sooner.





	Blind To All Of The Signs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frnkxo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frnkxo/gifts).



> Hey, sweeties!
> 
> Welcome to another reader insert pile of smut - this time featuring everyone's favourite Italian!
> 
> This one is gifted to frankxo who requested a Frank insert due to a distinct lack of them around here! If you're a fan of Omegaverse then definitely check out their 'Suddenly' series, it's amazing!  
> I know I couldn't do exactly what you wanted, sweetie, but I hope I've hit some of those notes!
> 
> Let me know what you think - y'all know the drill, I'd love a comment or hmu on twitter @MCFOBR!

You stand in the wings, just like you do every night, watching.

You know you should be jealous that the crowd didn’t scream like that for you, that this drummer has way more rhythm than your guitarist’s bratty little brother that you got stuck with, that your song writing just isn’t as good as the words he fires out with such venom and passion. 

But you’re not. You’re not jealous of any of that.

In fact, all you can think of is how fucking good he looks drenched in sweat.

You bite your lip as he launches into another masterpiece, barely giving any of his band time to recover before spitting out the title and making the fans scream. It’s their favourite… it’s your favourite too. Because you know, after watching the set from this same position every single night, that during this one he’ll lift his guitar and play it above his head. Impressive; he seems to have the remarkable talent to play it in any position from behind his back to rolling over the floor, but it’s not the skill you’re floored by… it’s that tiny strip of stomach it always reveals. Every damn night.

You keep your teeth firmly planted in your lip to stop yourself singing along; of course you know every word. You see the bass player look over, he knows by now you will be there. He rolls his eyes at you and you know you’re blushing like a teenage fangirl. He smirks at you then steps forward to rest his head on that sweaty shoulder.

The jealousy claws at you, making your hands clench into fists by your sides. You have to stop your teeth from cutting your skin when he reacts, letting his head fall to the side so his damp hair falls over the bass player’s face. The crowd go wild and you hate every one of them for encouraging it. 

After far too many slow seconds the bass player eventually steps back, turning his head to poke his tongue out at you when he’s back in position. You’re about to give him your best scowl when then song recaptures your attention; it’s time.

You release your lip to gasp when you see him raise his arms. And there it is. That perfect, pale sliver of flesh. You can see the tattoos that hug his hips, just a hint of the dark hair trailing down and disappearing under the newly exposed elastic of his boxers.

You know he has tattoos. You see the ones on his hands, neck and arms every single day. You know he has more. Being on tour means limited privacy though being the only woman the guys usually let you have your own room wherever possible. Didn’t stop you accidently catching him changing though. And it was an accident. You thought everyone had left the bus already and you only went back to grab your jacket because it was colder than you thought. You didn’t see everything; he was pretty much dressed apart from the plaid shirt he was just starting to button up when you pushed through the curtain into the sleeping area. He smiled at you, like it was no big deal, while you ducked your head and half mumbled an apology.

The moment is over too soon. You watch and let out a small sigh as he drops his guitar back in front of his stomach to finish the song. There’s always tomorrow night though.  
You watch the rest of the set, ignoring the mocking faces the bass player insists on pulling at you. Somehow he’s the only one who’s noticed your crush. You don’t know how; this is day seventeen of the tour and your eyes have been bulging since day one… the rest of his band (and yours) must be blind or maybe just constantly blind drunk.

He always leaves the stage last. You always mean to duck away before he sees you but you never manage to. His band file past and you congratulate them on another great show. Except the bass player, you tell him to go fuck himself and he laughs so loud you’re sure the whole place hears him.

You think about following them through to the dressing rooms, like you consider every night, but you don’t. He’s still on stage and you’re still watching him. He turns to head off stage and he sees you. He always looks surprised even though he really should expect it. He quickly composes his shocked expression into a warm smile that makes your insides flutter.

“Hey, babe,” he says when he reaches you.

He’s always called you that, right from the first time you met. At first you assumed it’s something he does to all women but you’ve never heard him call any female staff anything other than their names. That quickly disproved your second theory, that he used it because he couldn’t remember your name; he knows everyone’s name, he even remembers bar staff from venues he played on his last tour. You don’t really care why he calls you it, you’re just happy he does.

“Hey, Frank. You were great,” you tell him, surprised your voice is steady.

“Thanks.” He places a hand on your shoulder and you feel your throat tighten at the contact which somehow seems more than just as casual, friendly touch. “You’re not getting bored of hearing our shit yet?”

The house lights go up and he steps closer to you; you know it’s because he’s worried about fans seeing him at the edge of the stage but you only notice the heat radiating off his skin. He looks at you expectantly so you shake your head, remembering the unanswered question, then he squeezes your shoulder before removing his hand to head to his dressing room.

You’ve already showered and your stuff is loaded; one good thing about having a band full of egotistical men is that they like to show off and heave as much equipment as they can without accepting help. You’re more than capable of throwing around as much as them but you let them feed their self-esteem, preferring to use the time to watch Frank’s set.

Thankfully, the venue has an enclosed back exit where the bus is parked where you head to for a smoke. It’s not visible from the front of the venue and is protected by metal gates. You know the fans will be waiting outside the venue to get a glimpse of Frank, a quick photo or autograph. Someone will go over the top as usual, try to hug him or worse still kiss him, and he’ll be his usual polite self as he puts them in their place. He always tries to sign when he can but they’ve been told they can’t tonight; the venue has a club night starting in less than an hour and people will be queuing out front. You couldn’t help but find his frustration endearing when he was told this earlier in the day. His fans mean so much to him and he hates when venues lay down rules he doesn’t agree with. He got that little crease between his eyebrows when he told the promoter it was ‘absolute bullshit’ and you almost sighed at how adorable his anger was.

You can hear the fans singing as soon as you slip out the back door. They’re singing that song, the one where he lifts his guitar over his head, and you have to squeeze your thighs together when you picture that soft slice of stomach.

You fish your pack of smokes out of your pocket along with your lighter. You were supposed to quit but every fucker smokes here so you promise yourself you’ll stop after the tour as you light your cigarette. That first puff is always the best. You watch the grey wisps dissolve into the night air as the fans out front stop singing and start chanting his name. For a second you wonder if he decided to ignore the venue and go out anyway but then you notice he’s stood right beside you.

You start a little, not expecting to be disturbed when you know his band are dealing with breaking down the set and your band are getting hammered in their dressing room. He smiles, almost a smirk, at your panicked face and then he’s giggling like a rapid fire machine gun.

“Need help restarting your heart, babe?” Frank manages to say when the laughter subsides.

“Fucking idiot,” you mutter, trying to look disgruntled but too ecstatic to have him to yourself.

“Awww come on, that was funny.” 

He touches your shoulder again briefly and you’re pretty sure he can hear your heart, hammering now from excitement rather than surprise. He holds his hand out and you know what he wants; he asked the first time but after that it just became some unspoken action between you both. You pull the cigarette from your mouth and place it between his tattooed fingers. He gives you an appreciative smile then takes a drag.

“Thanks, babe,” he says once he lets the smoke out.

“No problem.” Luckily your hands aren’t shaking too bad so you manage to light another for yourself and you both smoke in silence for a minute, the sound of the fans, now returned to singing, adding to the already dreamlike atmosphere.

“They sing it better than me,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“I could sing it better than you,” you answer, knowing it’s a lie but not being able to resist teasing him; you found out pretty early he likes that kind of thing and the banter between you quickly escalated as the days passed from good natured to borderline sexual.

“Yeah? How about you show me how you use that mouth tomorrow night rather than just exercising your eyes?”

“Day off tomorrow,” you remind him then take a drag, hoping you look as cool as you sound. 

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about on stage,” he answers with a downright filthy smile and you know you didn’t look that cool.

You swallow hard and try to stop your hand trembling. He carries on smoking but his eyes are still on you, waiting for your comeback. Your head can’t think of some smart ass thing to say; in fact all you can think of is dropping to your knees and showing him exactly how you use your mouth. He hasn’t showered or changed and his white sweat soaked tee is clinging to his skin, showing the dark outlines of those tattoos. He runs his hand through his damp hair, hauling it away from his forehead then letting it fall back, all while his eyes are locked with yours.

“F-f-fuck you, Iero,” you eventually spit, annoyed how much your voice shakes and that he’s won this time.

“Yeah…” he breathes as he leans in to hold his lips against your ear, “you probably will.”

He pulls back, looking pleased with your now erratic breathing, then sucks on his cigarette one more time before crushing it under his boot and heading back inside.

 

You try and avoid him for the rest of the night. You know he was just joking, securing his victory in your childish battle of words, but it’s really shaken you. He’s never taken it so far before, been so blatant or overtly sexual. There’s always been this bubbling tension between you but you always thought the attraction was purely you for him… now you’re not so sure.

You climb onto the bus as soon as you finish your cigarette and hide in your bunk, the curtain pulled across. You can’t hear the fans anymore but you can smell your cigarette on your breath and it makes you think of Frank. The scene from minutes ago replays in your head, over and over until you doze off still thinking about him.

 

Your drummer shakes your shoulder, calling your name to wake you up. The dream slips away as you open your eyes. You scowl at him, furious he has disturbed the glorious images that were in your head, but he tells you it’s time to move.

Everyone decided it would be a good idea to travel right after the show. The town you’re playing next, the same one where you’ll be spending your precious day off, is only an hour drive so it makes sense. You slept through the journey and would rather just stay where you are but the lure of a hotel, even a shitty budget one, is too much.

You roll out of your bunk and stretch before finding your overnight bag. You keep your toiletries in there pretty much permanently anyway to take from bus to venue so you add some clean underwear as well as a change of clothes before heading into the living area.

Frank’s in there, sat on the couch with his feet on the table. He smiles at you and you blush hard. Seeing him brings back your disrupted dream. He had that stupid smile on his face then too, right before his head disappeared between your legs. You force yourself to smile back, not wanting him to think anything is wrong.

“Been dreaming of me?” Frank asks, dropping his feet to the floor then standing up. 

You know your face must be glowing red now, you can feel the heat in your cheeks. What if you’ve been talking in your sleep? Saying his name? Worse, what if you were moaning just like you were in the dream? But you know you don’t talk in your sleep, you don’t even snore, and the logical part of your brain tells you he’s just teasing, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“Yeah. Your fans bottled you off stage and I had to take over cos you were crying like a little bitch,” you say, pulling the words out of nowhere. You’re happy with them though and it makes him laugh.

“And what did they think of your mouth, babe?” Frank’s staring at your lips so you wet them with the tip of your tongue.

“They loved it,” you answer in a breathy whisper then turn away and strut towards the exit, not looking back before you climb out into the freezing night.

 

The hotel is more of a motel really; one of those places that makes you think of old horror movies where the rooms are all outside, covered by a rotting wooden walkway. Most of the guys are doubling up and you don’t really listen to who is sharing because you’re freezing and just want to get back to sleep. Finally you get your key and vague directions to your room.

Despite it being past 2am most of the guys are planning to gather in one room and drink until sunrise. You excuse yourself and say a half hearted goodnight before dragging yourself to your room.

The room is okay. You expected the small bathroom and the garish floral patterned curtains but it’s clean and unexpectedly has a double bed. You dump your bag on the floor and collapse onto the bed with a happy sigh. It’s gonna feel nice to be able to stretch out, to roll over without ending up on the floor like you have on the bus a handful of times.  
Knowing you’re on the edge of sleep you force yourself to get up and use the bathroom. After brushing your teeth and washing your face you pad back into the main room. It’s really warm which is nice because it’s so cold out but it’s verging on too warm. You check the thermostat but it’s busted and won’t go any lower. You find clean underwear and a cotton vest with straps in your bag and change into them before hitting the lights and crawling under the thin bed sheets.

Just as your eyes close they spring open when you hear someone pounding on your door. You growl to yourself then pull the sheet over your head. You hope they’ll get the message when you don’t answer but they knock again. You climb out of bed, flinging the sheet aside and stamping across the room.

Even though you’re sure it’s probably your guitarist asking to borrow money for beer you still check the peephole since you’re in a strange town in a creepy ass motel. It’s Frank. 

You gasp at the sight of him in his ripped jeans and hoodie, hood pulled up and arms wrapped around himself. It’s not that cold out but he’s always cold.

You realise you’ve been staring to long when he knocks again; the sound so close to your face it makes you jump back. What the fuck are you supposed to do now?

“The fuck do you want, Iero?” Your voice sounds happier than you intended it to and he smirks, unaware you’re watching him.

“A cigarette?” Frank asks hopefully. It’s bullshit; not only does he have his own but every fucker gathered for the late night drinking session smokes too. There are much more convenient people he can bum a smoke from.

“And Evan won’t lend you one?” You’re fairly sure they’ll be sharing a room, they usually do.

“Not without making me beg.”

“And you think I won’t?”

“No. But I don’t mind begging you. Let me in, babe,” Frank says and both parts of the sentence make your heart go into overdrive.

“You think I’m gonna let some tattooed creep into my room at stupid o clock in the morning?” Frank smiles at your words and you smile watching him rub his arms, the cold obviously bothering him.

“Come on. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

“No way. I was in bed… maybe I sleep naked.”

“You don’t sleep naked,” Frank answers but his face looks like he wishes you did.

“How the fuck would you know?”

“Cos I look in your bunk every night, under the sheets and everything,” Frank says then laughs despite himself.

“Well, that makes you less creepy,” you say sarcastically and hope he is joking.

“Babe, come on. I’m cold and I really need a smoke,” he begs, pulling his arms around himself tighter.

“Fine.” 

You pull your door open and keep your body behind it. Frank gives you his best smile as he steps into your room. You didn’t intend for that to happen; you were already reaching blindly behind you for your jacket so you could pass him a cigarette through the gap but it’s too late.

“You’re not naked,” he says, his voice disappointed. You might as well be the way he’s staring at you.

“No. Thermostat’s busted,” you offer as an explanation then jab your thumb in its direction.

“Mine too but it won’t turn on. Shut the door, you’re letting the heat out.” 

Frank rubs his hands together and blows on them so you let the door swing closed, worried he really is that cold. Then you realise you’re alone together in your motel room… and you’re not wearing very much at all.

“Here, they’re in the pocket, help yourself.” 

You grab your jacket and throw it to him then walk as quickly as you can back to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and pulling the bed sheet up to your neck. Frank finds your pack of smokes and takes one out, pulling his hood down to stow it behind his ear like some 1950’s movie star.

“You not gonna join the party at Matt’s?” Frank asks, wandering over then sitting on the end of your bed.

“Nope. I see enough of my band wasted every day, feel like I deserve a break once in a while.” Their drinking habits don’t bug you really, you just don’t wanna say you’re too tired.

“I’m just happy my room isn’t near theirs, might be quiet enough to get some sleep for once.” Frank yawns and you instinctively copy the action.

“Tell me about it.” A bunch of snoring guys in a bus isn’t exactly the most peaceful environment and a good night’s sleep is a distant memory.

“Fuck. It really is warm in here.” 

Frank pulls his hoodie off over his head, giving you a perfect view of more than just that tiny slither you see every night. He knocks the cigarette to the floor but doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t bother to right his scrunched up tee either and it takes all your strength to tear your eyes away.

“You wanna swap rooms?” Frank asks with a hopeful look.

“And sleep in an icebox with Evan? No thanks.”

“I’m not sharing with Evan, I got my own room. It is a fucking ice box though; I’d probably be better off sleeping outside,” Frank grumbled.

“Well, you know where the door is,” you answer then snuggle down into the bed, just to make him even more jealous.

“Come on, babe,” Frank whines and pulls at your toes through the bed sheet.

“I’m not swapping rooms,” you say firmly and nudge his leg with your other foot.

“Let me sleep in here then,” he says in a low voice and you’re pretty sure he’s past joking about it.

“You really wanna sleep on my floor when you’ve got a whole room to yourself?” 

You close your eyes so you don’t have to look at his pleading face, knowing you’ll crumble as soon as he sets those eyes on you.

“No.” Frank kicks off his shoes then climbs onto your bed, leaning over you until his face is inches from yours and your eyes open again. “I wanna sleep in your bed.”

“Fuck you, Iero,” you say again, because it worked so well the last time he took things too far… was that only a few hours ago?

“Seventeen days of staring at me hard enough to make me pop a boner on stage every goddamn night? I’d say it’s about time you did,” he rasps against your ear then bites at the lobe.

How the fuck is this even happening? His words were enough to make your heart skip a beat but his teeth nipping at your ear? You’re still struggling to find any words when he releases the trapped flesh and moulds his mouth to yours.

Your brain can’t decide between letting out a squeak of surprise or a moan of pleasure so instead you make some sort of almost inhuman growl that sends vibrations down both of your throats. Frank takes it as a good sign though and crushes your lips as his hand finds its way into your hair.

“Frank…” you pant when he pulls back, your head spinning.

“Hmmmm?” Frank’s skimming his nose along your jaw now, stopping to place soft kisses at random points then moving down your neck.

“You’re a fucking tease,” you whisper then feel his breath over your throat as he laughs lightly.

“Did you want me to stop?” 

Frank pulls his head back to look up into your eyes. His pupils are already blown wide and you’re pretty sure yours are the same. He tugs your hair softly and you moan in response, shaking your head so he knows stopping isn’t an option.

His lips are back on yours in an instant and his hands are everywhere, trying to grab at you through the bed sheets. Fuck, he’s a good kisser. He’s already got you breathless and when you feel his tongue pressing on your bottom lip you’re almost dizzy at the idea of it in your mouth. There’s another moan; from him this time when you part your lips and flick your tongue against his.

Frank presses his hips lower as you kiss and you can feel he’s starting to get hard. You don’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away so you can get rid of the bed sheet. He makes the choice for you when he pulls back to yank his tee off over his head. You tug at the sheet, completely distracted by his ink, and he gets the message. You almost whine when he climbs off the bed but then he’s unbuttoning his jeans and you can’t decide between watching his hands or staring at his chest.

You haven’t made any progress with the sheet by the time he’s down to his underwear so he rips it out of your fingers and throws it to the floor before climbing back on top of you. You want him to kiss you again but he’s letting his teeth graze your collar bone, nibbling at the sharp line then licking up towards your neck and that is almost as good as his lips on yours.

One of his hands sneaks under the hem of your vest and the other is knocking the strap out of the way so he can mouth at your shoulder. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan when he digs his teeth in but it only spurs him on. You know he must be marking you but you don’t care.

When his fingers find your nipple you pull his face back to yours, kissing him urgently. His tongue copies the same motions as his thumb and finger, rubbing and flicking in the same way. It’s enough to make your body arch off the bed and you have to pull away before your lungs explode.

He uses the opportunity to remove your vest and then he’s the one staring. It’s almost too much, his eyes taking in every inch of your skin while you lay on the bed panting. Then he drops his head, kissing and licking, filling his mouth with as much flesh as he can. You can tell he wants to, that he’s holding back.

“Use your teeth,” you breathe, meaning it to be permission but it comes out more like you’re begging him.

And he does. He catches your hard nipple between his teeth and bites down just enough to keep the pain on the right side of pleasure. You gasp at the sensation and you swear you can feel him smiling against your skin.

One of his hands is pulling on the nipple that’s not in his mouth while the other travels slowly down your stomach. He knows exactly what he’s doing, dancing his fingers just fast enough that you know where he’s heading but slow enough to drive you crazy. You’re a little embarrassed how wrecked you already sound, a mess of pants and moans, and the shame only gets worse when he ghosts his hand over your groin.

Then you shut up. Because suddenly you’re mortified. You remember the plain white cotton underwear you put on because you only expected to be sleeping tonight. The idea of Frank’s tattooed hand rubbing against them, which is exactly what is happening now, seems ludicrous.

Frank releases both of your nipples and looks up at you. The sudden silence makes a look of confusion cross his face that starts to fade into concern. You know your face must be bright red. He moves his hand away and rests it on your thigh instead, waiting for you to say something.

“Shit… sorry, I…” you start then feel another wave of humiliation hit you because he looks so worried, so scared that he’s really crossed a line. 

“I can stop, really,” he says softly but you hear the seriousness there.

“God, no,” you say quickly; despite the awful underwear choice and awkwardness it has created, stopping is the last thing you want.

“So…?” Frank asks as his hand returns to exactly where it was, making you shiver with pleasure and your cheeks flame even more.

“I just… if I’d have known I’d end up with you between my legs tonight I would have worn something sexier,” you admit with an apologetic smile.

“Ahh, babe.” Frank works his lips against yours until you’re breathless again then pulls away. “It’s what’s inside that counts.”

With a heart-stopping wink Frank kisses down your body until he gets to those ridiculous panties. And then you know he really doesn’t care because he’s mouthing at the cotton, sucking it into his mouth with a groan that sends vibrations right through you.

You don’t know how but somehow your fingers are tangled in his hair. His tongue is pushing against the fabric as you tug at his dark locks. He growls, yeah, motherfucking growls, when you yank too hard and suddenly all your bones dissolve. You let go of his hair and he kisses his way back to your lips.

“Who said you could pull my fucking hair so hard?” Frank asks you and you shiver at his dominant tone.

He couldn’t know… how could he know? It’s not like you’re big enough for your sex life the hit the headlines and you haven’t fucked anyone else you’re on tour with who would have told him. But he knows. It’s like he can smell it on you.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” you say, aiming for innocence and looking up at him through your lashes.

He smiles wickedly then in a flash he’s pinning your wrists above your head. You don’t even try to twist away; the submissive in you wanting him to dominate you, do whatever the fuck he wants to you because however hot you already thought he was, it just ramped up threefold with his assertive attitude.

“That’s not much of an apology,” he rasps, his breath hot on your face.

“I’m really, really sorry. Please, you were just making me feel so good… I forgot my place,” you try with your eyes cast down.

“And where is your place?” Frank asks, clearly enjoying your compliance.

“As your bitch?”

“I like the fucking sound of that.”

Frank yanks on your hair to force your head back and your cry is smothered by his frantic lips on yours. It’s a lot of clashing teeth and saliva but you like that; his lips are shiny slick when he pulls away and your stomach clenches at the sight.

He lets go of your hair and hands, which you leave where he slammed them, to harshly pull on your underwear, tugging them down your thighs and tossing them to the floor.  
Your body shudders as he stares at you. The hunger in his eyes is like nothing you’ve see before and it’s hard not to moan from the way he’s staring. He grabs between your legs, not in a way that hurts but he’s not gentle either; it’s a possessive gesture.

“Who does this belong to?”

“You, Daddy,” you answer immediately, completely lost in being so dominated by him.

“Daddy?” Frank repeats with one eyebrow raised.

Fuck. You didn’t mean to say that… well, you did but not really, not without checking with him first. He doesn’t look unhappy though or put off by your choice of name.

“I…” you start, unsure if you should apologise or not.

“I like that,” he says, cutting you off. “You can be Daddy’s baby girl and his dirty little bitch.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you agree with an obvious edge of relief in your tone.

Frank catches your eye and even though his face is still locked in that dominant sneer, his eyes are suddenly soft. You’re still staring back into those melting hazel eyes when you realise he’s moved his hand and he’s whispering something to you.

“Give me a word, babe. One word that will stop everything.”

“Nutmeg,” you answer, the same safe word you’ve used since you were a teenager.

Frank repeats the word and you nod to confirm it. Then he’s shifted; his eyes hard and fierce again. If it wasn’t so arousing you might actually be scared of him… if you’d met him on the street with this face you’d be crossing over to avoid him.

“Daddy’s going to own every part of you.” He shifts his gaze down between your legs and he’s stroking you again. “Even your pretty ass.”

You gasp at his words and he laughs softly. He drops one finger lower, making you squirm slightly. He presses a calloused finger pad against the tight ring of muscle, not trying to gain entrance but just letting you know he’s there.

“Anybody ever been here?”

“No,” you tell him breathlessly. “Soft limit.” You’ve always been intrigued by the idea but never found anyone that was experienced enough to guide you through it. 

“Would you let Daddy play here?”

“Yes.” God fucking yes you would.

“You’re making me regret not packing my bag of tricks… never thought I’d need them on tour. I’ve got the perfect little plug that would look amazing in you; just enough to stretch you out and make you feel the burn.”

“Daddy...” you whimper. There’s nerves there but desire too.

“Not tonight, baby girl. I already know what I want tonight. But by the end of this tour your ass is gonna be as abused as your pussy,” he hisses and you have to bite your lip to stop it wobbling.

Frank pushes himself up so he can work his boxers off his hips. You know what makes a good sub and staring so blatantly is only going to earn you a punishment but it’s worth it. The sight of him his glorious and he knows you’re watching so he makes a big deal of stroking his hard cock nice and slow.

“Can never stop looking can you?” Frank murmurs rhetorically. “Maybe it’s time you got a dose of your own medicine… maybe I’ll be the one watching you tomorrow night.”

“Day off tomorrow,” you say before you can stop yourself, remembering the conversation from earlier.

He doesn’t react the same this time. Frank lets go of himself and uses that same hand to strike you across the face. Your head snaps to one side and you’re sure your teeth rattled… that delicious burn is heating your cheek though so you really couldn’t care even if he knocked them all out.

“It’s past 2am. Technically today is your precious fucking day off, clever little bitch,” he snarls.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answer obediently.

“Tomorrow night,” he pauses and smiles at the silence, he knows you won’t dare correct him again, “you will be on stage and I will be watching.”

Frank slips one finger inside you and you’re moaning far too loud at the contact; you’ve waited so long for it that it’s already blowing your mind. He pulls it out but before you can protest he’s pushing it back in alongside another.

“And do you know what will be in my pocket while I watch?” Frank halts his fingers until you shake your head in reply. “A pretty little plug for your pretty little ass.”

“Please, Daddy…”

You groan and fist the bed sheets when he moves his hand faster and harder, fucking you roughly with his fingers. You’re arching off the bed when he adds a third finger, his other hand still pressing lightly on your ass.

“You’re gonna need a gag for when we get back on the bus,” he murmurs and despite your blood being on fire with pleasure you still have enough awareness to look wary.

“On the bus?” You assumed this was a one time thing; even with his dirty talk about owning your ass, you thought it was just that – talk.

“Yes, baby girl. You can’t be this loud on there. Not unless you want everyone to know what’s happening in your bunk. Do you want them to come looking… find you with my cock in your ass and my hand in your pussy? Do you want them all to know you’re my dirty little bitch?”

“No, Daddy,” you answer as your body trembles, knowing you have another twenty days together.

“Then you better learn to shut your whore mouth when we aren’t alone.” You clamp your lips together but he shakes his head. “I want to hear you tonight.”

Frank pulls his fingers out, fast enough to make you gasp. He gives one last, almost regretful, circle of your ass then moves his hand to your hip instead. You know what’s coming and you instinctively widen your legs.

“Good girl,” he praises, squeezing your hip tighter. 

“Please, Daddy,” you whimper when he does nothing but stare down at you with a playful smile on his face.

“You gonna beg me, baby girl?”

“Please, Daddy. Want you inside me.”

“Now beg me like the dirty bitch you are,” he demands as presses the tip of his cock up against you.

“Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me hard and make me scream. Tear me apart with…” your pleading is cut off into a choked moan when he rams into you with one swift flick of his hips.

The urge to cling onto him, dig your nails into his back, is almost overwhelming as he thrusts into you but you know you’re not supposed to move your hands. You can’t help rolling your hips against his though, making your bodies clash with that obscene sound of flesh on flesh.

“You like that? That what you wanted?” Frank taunts, fucking into you without mercy. You open your mouth to answer him but only a desperate cry rips out of your throat. You settle for nodding and he presses you harder into the mattress.

Frank slams his body against yours with enough force to make the bed rattle and shift back into the wall. Neither of you care. You’re too close to your orgasm to focus on anything except making sure Frank is right there too.

“You close, baby girl?” Frank rasps, reading it straight from your face. “Gonna lose it? Come undone just for me?”

“Yeah, Daddy… fucking me so good.” You moan as wave of pleasure hits you, making you pant and shudder as your stomach tightens.

“I can feel you… tight and wet…” Frank pants then his hips stutter once… twice… then he’s pushing deep into you as his body shakes.

The feel of him twitching then spilling inside you is too much; you wrap your legs around his waist to hold him close as you scream his name. Your body tenses for a harsh second then collapses onto the bed. Frank pulls out with a groan then rolls to lay by your side.

Frank kisses the tip of your shoulder, his lips soft and sweet. You sigh at the contact and feel him smile against your skin. He looks up at you and you tilt your head at the curious glimmer in his eyes.

“Who would have known with your sassy attitude there was a pliable little sub under there?” Frank says with a grin.

“Maybe it’s just because you’re a scary ass dom. Almost pissed myself in fear,” you say, returning his smirk.

“Give it a week and I’ll have you pissing yourself in pleasure,” he says nonchalantly then presses his mouth back to your shoulder.

He didn’t sound like he was joking. The silence isn’t tense but you need to break it. You can’t just let that go like it’s nothing.

“That’s gonna have to be a no. Piss play is a hard limit, Frank,” you say seriously.

“Really?” Frank cocks an eyebrow at you and you nod firmly. 

Suddenly he’s rolling back on top of you, holding his weight on his elbows but making sure his skin is just touching yours. There’s a dark look in his eyes and that commanding voice is back.

“Not even if Daddy buys you some pretty pink panties? You won’t put them on then piss in them for Daddy? Show Daddy how excited you get?”

How is he doing this? Even with your body worn out from your orgasm you can feel yourself reacting to his words, that tightness in your stomach coiling up with how erotic he’s making it all seem… especially with the way he’s looking at you.

“Daddy…” you whimper, letting him know the effect he’s having on you.

“You’ll do it for Daddy, baby girl? Sit on Daddy’s lap and make a mess of yourself… you’ll get to see how hard it makes Daddy when you lose control like that. If you make Daddy’s cock nice and wet maybe he’ll push those ruined panties aside and reward you for it…”

You can’t even answer him; you just whine and nod furiously, completely consumed with the idea of him having that kind of hold on you. He smiles in triumph then kisses your lips briefly before rolling back and pulling you against his side in a gentle embrace.


End file.
